


Moth to a Flame

by mimizilla



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 14:26:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19427818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimizilla/pseuds/mimizilla
Summary: The Turian Councillor, Sparatus, makes it very obvious that he hates humans, but he still can't help but to be drawn to the first human spectre.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notice: Certain stories will be on hiatus, mainly the fairly popular "Trapped". I am not happy with how this story was turning out, so it and a few others will be completely rewritten.

He hated her. 

This human that had constantly stood before him was nothing more than a nuisance, a waste of space and air. A constant struggle to face almost every day. Her mouth moved, but the only thing that came out of it was nonsense. More and more nonsense. It surprised him that the other members of the council even sat listening to it, he knew just as well as they did, that none of them bought what she was saying, yet he was forced to be the voice of reason. He shot her down again and again, each time with a bit more logic than the last, and each time the flame in her eyes only burned brighter. It made his stomach churn. How could she be so serious about something that sounded so stupid?

She'd not only found evidence that forced him to revoke the title from his best and longest working Spectre, but she'd also managed to snag the title for herself. Now she was too powerful. Commanding the best ship in the alliance fleet, with the highest title an alliance soldier could reach, a Spectre, and too much sheer will. Someone like her needed to be knocked down a few good notches, he could already see the collateral damage that would come of her being a Spectre. Even though she'd just started only a few moments ago, the dent in the councils funding had already formed, soon enough, there would be no money left. He could feel the money leaving his pockets the minute they gave her that title, it hurt him more than what he wished to admit.

With the hearing over, the room began to clear out. The crowd that had formed dispersed, leaving only a few stragglers who likely worked in the presidium. She stayed for a bit longer too, talking to the human ambassador. He never quite liked that man, but he had no say in what went on in human politics, his likes and dislikes we're nothing of concern. At least, until that ambassador tried to earn the title of councilor, then there would be a problem.

Her hands moved as she spoke to him, meaning that she was rather interested in what she was saying. He found that to be a strange thing that humans did. Move their hands. From what he'd learned, it helped express emotion, but to him it just looked silly. Did their voices not express what they were saying enough? He knew that humans lacked the subvocals that turians did, as those helped turians express alongside their mandibles, but he found that their voices were still relatively expressive enough. She'd yelled at him more than once and he understood that she was angry, so why did they have to use their hands.

She glanced back up at him once more, her eyes a vibrant green, and he turned away, almost ecstatic to go back to his office. He did not want to look at her a this moment, or anyone at that. The turians needed two new Spectres. Someone as strong and smart as Saren, and one as diligent and resourceful as Nihlus. That'd be hard to find. You couldn't just find someone like that anywhere, although they often expressed themselves too much.

“A human Spectre?” Tevos questioned to her fellow members of the council, their walk back to the office seeming a little too quiet. He could hear the sound of their foot fall against the floor, his being heavier than the others. He didn't have anything he wanted to say, instead he wanted to think with the silence, he felt as if there was nothing to be said, “It'll only be a moment before we're forced to take one of them as a councilor as well.”

He wanted to speak up and tell her no. That something like that would never happen. A human on the council? He almost laughed at the thought. Saying that just because the humans should be a part of the council just because they had a Spectre now, was like saying the hanar should just join too, seeing as the Blasto movies portrayed one as a Spectre. It was a truly silly thought.

“The humans certainly are moving fast. I do believe they'll have a seat on the council by the end of this year or at the beginning of next year, if we're lenient,” Valern, the salarian councilor, said.

Tevos noticed his silence, then spoke again. Her voice calm and soothing. It was truly a trait of the Asari to have such motherly tendencies, even the ones without children, “I don't like it either, Sparatus, but if it's for the advancement of the citadel, it must be done. And for all we know he could be wrong.”

“I'm never wrong,” he snapped back.

“It is fine,” Sparatus finally spoke, “It's just a lot to take in. So soon after a war with them, I'm appointing one to work directly under me.”

They reached the doors to the offices, and he merely stood in front of his for a moment before opening it with a sigh. Tevos placed a light hand against his shoulder, making him turn to face her. Her hands reminded him of the humans. The number of fingers and the feeling of her skin, she felt soft like they did. He shivered. Normally, he didn’t mind the touch of the asari, but now, all he could think about was a human touching him. The last thing he wished to think of when looking at a fellow member of the council was a human.

“You can converse with me, if you'd like. We can discuss the possible new turian Spectre candidates,”

“No, thank you. I need a moment, and a drink,”

She nodded and released his arm. He waited until the sound of her footsteps were barely audible anymore, then he stepped into his office. Letting the door close behind him, leaving him in the silence and solitude of his quiet work place. 

He needed a break from the loud chatter of the citadel, and the headache that was Shepard. Aside from his home, his office was the calmest place he knew of. Where he would not be bothered unless he absolutely wanted to.

Taking the hardest liquor he could find on the shelf, he poured himself a tall glass, no ice. He wanted it to be warm and strong. He needed it to burn his throat, in hopes that maybe the feeling of hard alcohol would wake him up from what he hoped was a dream. It was what he needed after such a long day, something to take a bit of the edge off.

That hot headed human woman. He knew she would cause him trouble from the minute Nihlus said he wished to make her a candidate for the Spectres. Of course someone like Nihlus would enjoy the idea of helping the humans, he was just that type of person. Too willing to help and seeing too much potential in everyone. He liked the humans, he loved the idea of a human Spectre and a human councilor, now he was dead. Nihlus just trusted far too easily, but if what the mission report said was true, he was killed for trusting Saren, his own mentor.

He took a sip from his glass, his thoughts shifting to Saren. That man was the complete opposite of Nihlus. He was quiet, and when he did speak, his words were harsh. He was never one for idle chatter, Sparatus often heard reports from people saying that they felt rather uncomfortable around him, like at any moment he was going to snap and commit mass murder. Being social was not his strong point, but everything else, he excelled in. He was strong, the top of his class in hand to hand combat. He had exceptional biotics and a hell of an aim. Losing him put Sparatus at such a draw back. It'd take years before another star like that rose from the grounds of Palaven, he doubted he’d be alive to see it. And it was all that humans fault.

She was well built for a human, taller than most, he'd give her that. Well built and smart, she had tactics that were nothing short of impeccable. It was her smarts that saved the colonist on Elysium and her ability to sway a crowd. He hated to say, but she'd earned her title of N7. Very few could endure what she did to save her people, and even fewer could come out of it mentally stable, although, saying that she was mentally stable was a stretch, but that didn't change how much of a problem she'd become for him. It was more than just the Spectre status, or the reapers, or anything like that.

It was the way her hips swayed when she walked. It was the thinness of her waist. It was her bright red hair that touched her shoulders. It was her cream colored skin that was dotted with little freckles. It was her strong voice and stronger will. Her ability to stand up to her higher authority. It was her bright green eyes that held a strong glare, if needed be. Somehow, this human was attractive to him, and he hated it. It was something he just could not understand. He grimaced whenever he thought about it.

She got under his plates, she annoyed him. She said things he did not like, she did things that made his blood boil. She made mistakes. She screwed up. She yelled at him, despite him being her superior. Everything she did seemed to be just to spite him, and yet, he almost always purred when she was near him. He found it hard to resist just staring at her. He wanted her, for some reason or another. 

He'd listen to her talk when she wasn't spouting nonsense, and it sometimes sounded... intelligent. She didn't graduate on top of her class for nothing. Her words spoke volumes, it seemed like almost every word that came out of her mouth had some form of meaning to it. Like everything she said, she meant. With every news report he saw on the vid screen, he questioned himself, was this truly the same person? It almost made him upset that everything she'd said to him sounded stupid.

Another swig of his drink and the glass was empty. He stood from his desk, prepared to serve himself another glass and wallow in an alcoholic sadness. If he got drunk enough, she would no longer be on his mind, that's what he told himself at least. Getting drunk seemed to be the only logical thing he could think to do, it's not like he could talk to someone about it. How would the Turian councilor explain his interest in the first human Spectre to anyone. He heard a ping at the door, a slight curse escaping his mouth.

He had no meetings today and he thought he'd made it obvious with the other members that he didn't wish to be bothered at the moment. With all that was on his mind, the last thing he wished to do was talk to someone. If he had a do not disturb sign, he'd hang it up. He'd have to look into having one made.

“Come in!” He yelled, taking his now full glass and sitting back at his desk.

He pretended to work on his datapad, not wanting to look at his intruder until they addressed themselves and made it known why they were bothering him. He normally was not so upset with those who can to visit his office, but today he was feeling a bit bitter. That was until his nose was filled with the scent of Earth fruits, flowers, and gunpowder. Her scent.

He took a sip from his glass and looked at her. In even the most casual of situations, she always seemed to be standing at attention. Her eyes glanced around his office once, twice, three times before they fell upon him. She saluted. The human salute. Back straight, heels together, toes forty five degrees apart. Her salutes were always perfect, she had many years of practice.

“Sir,” she began, her voice strong, “I wanted to say thank you.”

He felt his mandibles move on their own, “Thank me? What for? If anything I was against you becoming a Spectre, and yet you thank me?”

She eased her saluted down and nodded. Her hair lightly moving against her neck. Even with him constantly insulting her, she still treated him with some sort of respect, although, moments like these were rare. Most times she yelled at him, stood up to him, like he wasn't her superior. Now, she was the model of an excellent soldier. That made his mandibles twitch. 

“Despite our differences, I do feel thankful that you were a part of the council that made me a Spectre. I will not let you down, sir,”

This is what he meant when he said she spoke words with meaning behind them. The way she said that. He could feel that she was thankful, he could feel that she would complete her mission, and bring Saren back to be processed. He could tell from the slightest things she did. She made direct eye contact. She kept her hands balled into fist. The ways her lips moved, with such passion. He just wished he could fill her pretty little mouth. 

He stopped himself from that thought. Knowing that if he continued that thought process with her so close by and with being already a bit buzzed, he'd end up doing something he'd regret. Something he could never take back. He blamed the slight shift of his genital plates on his alcohol and not his thoughts, he did not want to believe he was aroused by her, especially with her right before his eyes.

“I trust you, Commander. I do not believe your tall tales of the reapers, but I do believe in your way of getting things done,” he thought back to Elysium, “No one left behind. I like that. It's a very Turian ideology.”

“Thank you, sir,” she nodded and he could feel how truly thankful she was again. She had a way of putting emotion into her voice that he enjoyed. He'd have to find someway to get them to talk one-on-one like this more often. Despite his hatred for her, he'd love to listen to her talk. Her stories that she told during interviews we're always so interesting, he'd have to ask her more about them.

He stood from his desk, noticing that once again, his glass was empty, he didn't even realize he was drinking so fast. The embarrassment of being right in front of the human he was getting turned on by was making him take bigger sips. He brushed past her to his shelves of alcohol, he took a whiff of her. Her scent was intoxicating. So sweet, yet strong.

“What made you come to thank me?” He asked over the sound of the liquid pouring.

“I plan to thank every member of the council. They all helped with this achievement. You're just the first one I've come to see,”

“Why me first?” 

“Well,” she began, “You are my favorite councilor.”

He smiled into his glass. She was such a nuisance. If only she knew what she was doing to him. He hummed in his throat, a hum of anger and a bit of pleasure. Pleasure from his plated shifting open once more. This human would be the death of him.

* * *

Conversations with the individual members of the council lasted longer than she'd expected. She'd planned to be in and out, but things don't always go as planned. She had to remember that no matter what she was doing.

She knew that the council didn't particularly like her, she was like their troubled child or something, but her mother always taught her to be grateful for everything, even the things she earned. So, she thanked the council for her new status. She told them that she'd work hard and she meant those words. If there was one thing she knew she could do correctly, it was present good work. Even if the work looked tattered, broken, and destroyed, it was still good if all bad things led to it being done.

The one she was most nervous about, was the first one. The Turian councilor and military specialist, Sparatus. He likely hated her the most, and she understood why. She was a human, part of the very race that his race fought a war with. A war that wasn't even too long ago. Her mentor, Anderson, even fought in the war himself. She'd have to get him out of the way first, since he was the one she feared most. It was always good to get rid if the hardest things first, just to get them over with. Do it quickly, it'd be like ripping off a bandaid.

She sighed when outside of his office. The meeting didn't go too badly. She noticed that Sparatus finished off one drink, only to pour himself another while they talked, so that was likely the only thing keeping him sane. It had to be. Otherwise, he would have talked much much worse to her. She shivered at the thought of what he could've said to her.

His words, while they still stung, weren't as bad as usual. It was probably because they were talking one on one rather than in front of the other council members. She wanted to believe that the way he acted towards her was nothing more than a facade, a tough front for the council, but she knew that to not be true. He hated her. It was inevitable. Something she could not change. She was an immature reckless human. A human that'd just become a Spectre, targeted with taking down his former best Spectre.

“Shepard,” the familiar voice called her from her mind. She turned to face this voice. Kaidan. He attempted to make himself look stoic, trying not to show the happiness that radiated off of him. He too was proud about her status and she was proud too, proud of everyone who helped her get there.

“Yes?” She responded, her commander face being put back on, making her look more serious.

He saluted, “The ship is ready. Everyone is aboard. Where should I tell Joker to set the course.”

“At ease,” she said, and his salute fell, “Tell Joker to set course for Knossos. We have to get to Matriarch Benzia’s daughter soon.”

“Yes ma’am,” and with that, he left. She was alone again. Alone with her thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

He watched the news interview with a sigh of relief. There were a million things that could've gone wrong, thankfully, none of them did. Rather, this turned out to be one of Shepard's best interviews. Considering how her previous interviews ended with broken cameras and injured reporters, he found this one to be rather tame in comparison. There were only a few human swear words thrown around and a quick moment where she seemed to threaten the reporter only to hold herself back.

He couldn't control the opening of his plates or the flick of his mandibles while looking at her, she just had this hold over him. This way of grasping and holding him tight. He had no control over himself when around her, or even when looking at her. It was like nothing he'd ever known.

  
Turning to the clock, he checked the time. He had about an hour before he'd have to go greet her in person for a hearing. A hearing in which she would not be able to hang up on them when they went to critique her work. A hearing where he'd be sitting close to her, close enough to smell her. The thought excited him, more than he knew before, but it scared him as well. Would he be able to hold back?

  
Before he knew what was happening, his pants were down to his ankles and his aching, hard member was already being gripped tightly in his taloned hand. It was already out of its plates already and dripping with his fluids. Never had he gotten this way so quickly before, it reminded him of his young days when he'd first hit puberty. The sight of any turian woman would send him into a daze in which his plated were completely shifted and his cock was sitting rock hard in his pants, it was rather embarrassing when he thought about it.

He squeezed the flesh in his hand and slowly he began to rub it up and down in a sickeningly dreary pace. The fluids of his cock were already covering his hand, coating it in a thin sheet of moisture that made his two fingers almost slip off of his cock. All the while, his thoughts were of her.

  
How she would look outside of that armor, how she would feel. Would she be soft like an Asari? Would she moan loudly for him, cry out for him? What would she say to him? His mind raced with things like this, things that only made him harden more. At this rate he'd never get to work to see her in person, but he just couldn't stop. She had this hold over him and it worsened by the day.

  
Sparatus had heard stories of a human myth, called a succubus. They looked like average human women, mind you, they were extremely attractive, but they were demons. Deep into the night when everyone was asleep and the skies were only filled with stars, these things would sneak into a man's bedroom and have their way with them. Normally, this process would kill the man, but in certain stories, it had the succubus just placing a charm on him instead.

  
This charm made him long for her, made him feel like he was dying without her. He felt as if he were willing to do absolutely anything for her, all she had to do was ask.

  
In some way, this was how he felt about Shepard. He did not believe in such fairy tales, but he did believe that Shepard had done something to him. She had to. It was very rare for him to take to a woman so quickly, and even more for that woman to be a human. Especially one that he hated.

It was his feelings, his lust, towards Shepard that made him wonder if he truly hated humans to begin with. He still felt something, albeit something weak, towards the human race as a whole, but for Shepard he felt something different. He didn't hate her like he hated a human, it was like she wasn't a human to him. Rather, she was some sort of ideal lover for him.

His mind kept shifting to her waist, her hips, her soft tongue, and her cherry pink lips. He felt himself reaching his peak when he thought about them, about all of her beautiful assets, his hands moving faster and faster against his cock.

With his chest heaving and his arm practically aching from how hard he jerked himself, he came. He practically gripped the bedsheets for support, his long claws digging little holes into them. To hold back screams, he bit down hard onto a pillow because right outside his doors were some guards. If they heard that, they'd burst in without even a knock of warning, they'd see everything.

  
When it reached him, he held back the loud moan that was trying to force itself out of his plated mouth. Instead the noise came out as long, high pitched whine. Like the groan of a fledgling begging his mother for food, rather than a highly respected turian politician.

His seed shot out and landed on the floor in pulses, each one more intense than the last. Each one sent a shock of convulsing pleasure from the bottom of his abdomen to his entire body.

  
When it was finally over, he threw himself back onto the cushion of the bed. He was panting and gasping for air, while trying to think of ways to clean up the mess he made. There was a lot more than usual today, likely because he was excited and backed up from the long time he'd spent without releasing. He wondered if she'd be able to swallow it all, if she'd be  
able to take him down her throat with no protest and beg for more.

  
Once again, he felt his length twitch with anticipation, knowing that the thoughts would get him hard and ready again. He'd have to stop himself before he ended up doing it again, he would already be a bit late to the meeting, he knew it. If he went at it for a second time this morning, he probably wouldn't even make it there. His legs would tremble too much and his eyelids would be heavy from such hard orgasms.

  
With a sigh, Sparatus stood from his bed and walked towards the shower. He turned it on the coldest setting he could and stepping inside. The cold water against his plating was more than uncomfortable, it was borderline painful, but it helped. It helped him think about what he was doing with logic.

  
As the cold water poured down his back, he thought about her again, but without the sexual  
light. What would she think about this? How would she feel knowing that he did such things? He didn't feel too good doing them, it made him feel almost filthy afterwards, but there was nothing more he could do. He and Shepard didn't have a good relationship to start with, it wasn't likely that she would give him the time of day outside of work. He doubted she was even  
interested in him that way. She probably hates turians as he hates humans. There would be no possible way for them to be together.

The meeting had already began and he was ten minutes late. He could hear the sound of chatter amongst Shepard, two members of her crew, and his fellow councilors. She sounded calm and collected, which was a good sign. Nothing had been said to anger her yet and she wouldn't storm off and leave in the middle of it.

All speaking stopped when he opened the door to the room and stepped inside. It was quiet. Too quiet. To the point where they could all hear each other breath without a struggle.

He wanted to say something, to apologise for being late and to tell them to resume the meeting, but when he saw her, all of his words seemed to clog up in his throat and choke him. Instead, he sat down in his designated chair and waited patiently for them to continue.

Her eyes fell upon him, if only for a moment and his heart seemed to skip a beat. He hated it. The way he was feeling. It was unprofessional and distracting. He felt that if it continued any longer, he'd act on these feelings, he just couldn't do that.

“As I was saying,” she continued, “I think we should start on Feros. Those colonists need our help.”

The two crew members she brought along nodded in agreement. One being the Turian son of one of the best officers and the other being a Qurian. They both stood behind her and spoke no words, but they nodded when she said something like a well trained pet varren.

Sparatus was not very partial to the Turian. He couldn't remember his name for the life of him, but he knew that he didn't like him. He was reckless and cocky, he didn't seem to understand that things had stakes. He was nothing like his father. A man who was well respected amongst the Turian race. Of course, someone like him would be riding around on Shepard's ship, shooting bad guys without having someone breathing down their backs.

But alongside these feelings of general disliking, his heart sank when he saw just how close that male was to Shepard or when he thought about the fact that he saw Shepard on the daily. He wondered just what kind of relationship they had together and made himself angrier with the thought that maybe they were romantically involved.

“What do you think, Sparatus?” Tevos had asked him.

He had gotten so lost in thought that he hadn't realized that the meeting had been adjourned and the councilors were now holding a conversation amongst themselves. So much of his time was spent thinking of the Turian that was on Shepard's ship that he had barely any time to look at her, barely any time to enjoy her features up close and personal. He grimaced, not caring about anything else that had to be said.

Instead, he stormed off to his office, where he poured himself something to drink to hold himself over while he mentally cursed himself.

* * *

“I don't know, Shepard,” Garrus began, “I'm getting a strange feeling that the turian councilor is starting to not like me.”

She chuckled a bit, then took off her chest piece for her armor, “He doesn't like me either, so it's fine.”

Garrus had completely finished taking off his armor and now stood in his undersuit. It clung tightly to his body, showing off all his muscles. He was firm underneath his armor, she knew it.

He gave her this look. One of complete confusion. Like he didn't understand a word she was saying. It almost made her want to check her translator, just to be sure that he could.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She quipped.

“You really think that Sparatus doesn't like you?” He asked and she nodded her head, “Really?”

“It's obvious that he hates me, Garrus. Unless you know something that I don't,”

“Of course I do, I'm a Turian,”

She groaned audibly, “Here we go again.”

“I'm being serious this time Shepard, he doesn't hate you. In fact, it's far from it. He really likes you,”

“I'm sorry?” she said, trying hard not to burst into a fit of laughter. Now they we're both walking back to her quarters to share a drink. Garrus had long since changed into his casuals, mainly because he had nothing to show off due to Turians having plating to cover their genitals, but she had to go somewhere private to change and Garrus followed her. They always shared a drink after a mission.

“Turians share emotion via subvocals,” he explained as she stepped into her bathroom and stripped out of her under armour, he continued to shout his explanation so that she could hear him,“Subvocals can say a lot more than our voices can. We don't have very good control over them, but turians are usually open with our emotions.”

Jane stepped out of the bathroom, now fully dressed in her casuals. She saw Garrus sitting on her bed and he moved over to make room for her. The cabin was already small to begin with, there was little space for a bigger bed that could fit both of them comfortably. It was one of the many perks of being a commander.

“This has to do with me because?” She questioned.

“His sub vocals always change to ones of pleasure when you're around,”

“And? Are you sure it's not just because he's around Tevos. I'd have subvocals of pleasure around her too,” she joked.

“As someone who's been working on the Citadel for years and who has seen many of the councilors meetings in person, I can tell you that he is normally very monotone,”

Suddenly, Jane's Omni tool beeped, which she was very thankful for. The conversation was making her a bit uncomfortable to think about, but Garrus seemed hell-bent on what he was saying.

The message she'd received was from the turian councilor's secretary, telling her that he wished to see her in his office on the Presidium. With all the talk of the councilor being interested in her, this message made her cheeks flush, but she didn't let Garrus know.

“I'll be right back,” she grumbled.

“Where are you going?” He questioned and she knew he would, he was always so nosy.

“Nowhere,” she lied. She knew that if she told Garrus exactly where she was going, he'd use it as more evidence for his conspiracy theories, and she was in no mood for that talk.

She stood in front of the councilor's door for just a moment, taking a deep breath, then ringing his buzzer. The door opened without a sound and she was inside.

He was sitting at his desk, which was covered in stacks of datapads, with a drink in hand. The room was relatively dark, with only a dim yellow light keeping it from being pitch black.

His green eyes landed on her and she was about to salute, but before she was able to, he shot up quickly from his seat. It startled her more than she wished to admit and caused her to stop in her tracks. She could tell early on that something was off with him.

“Shepard,” he called like they were friends meeting again, “Would you care for a drink.”

Her thoughts shifted to what Garrus had said to her and she was now hating that she had even listened to him, “No thank you, sir.”

He seemed a bit sad by her refusal, but didn't say anything about it. Instead, he topped off his drink which was already practically full. He took a sip from it, then sat back down.

“Can I get you something, sir?” she asked, realizing that she'd been here for an awfully long time without actually hearing something of importance.

He sighed into his drink, “You have a lot of talent, Jane.”

“Thank you, sir,” she tried not to care that he'd used her first name, but it was strange. He was acting strange all together.

He was just staring at her and sipping his drink, barely saying anything. His eyes would drift up and down her body over and over, but it was in a manner that made her skin crawl and prickle up with goosebumps bumps.

“You don't have to call me 'sir” he stated, “Call me Sparatus.”

“It's a preference thing,”

He stood again, this time letting his chair slide away into a far corner. His movements were sluggish, groggy. He was drunk, she could tell. Yet he was still trying his best to hold his composure. Trying to act like he wasn't really as intoxicated as he was.

He stepped closer to her and she stood perfectly still, just like a board. Not moving or speaking, just to see what he would do. He kept coming closer and closer, until they were face to face. Or close to it, he was so tall that she was practically staring at his chest. He knelt down a little, just so they could be eye to eye.

“Sir,” she mumbled, but when her lips moved, it felt like they were grazing against his face.

“You don't even know what you do to me, do you?”

“I'm sorry?” She questioned, placing her hands against his chest to push him back. He firmly grabbed her wrist, squeezing them tight in his taloned hands.

“You're drunk, Councillor,” she began, “Let me call someone to help you.”

He quickly released her hands like they were scorching hot and burning him. He muttered something under his breath them looked back at her with pleading eyes.

“Don't tell anyone,” he said with a sigh, “Please, Shepard. Just pretend this never happened.”

It surprised her that he now suddenly seemed sober and level headed. It was a change that happened in only a few seconds, maybe even less.

“Is everything okay, sir?”

He shook his head, “I don't know what's wrong with me,” he muttered.

“I understand,” she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to comfort him, “Your job is stressful and it's getting to you. I won't judge you for that.”

“It's not that. It's you,”

Jane spoke quickly, “I apologize if I've done something to offend you, sir."

“On the contrary,” he began, brushing a finger down her cheek, she visibly flinched, but did not pull away, “You do not offend me. You do _other_ things to me.”

“Other things?” She questioned, her mind shifting to Garrus and his words once more.

“I can't stop thinking about you," he sighed, "I try to, but I can't. What have you done to me?"

She turned away, unable to look at him anymore. He was like a child when he was like this. Begging and pleading with her for answers. But she didn't know. Honestly, she didn't know what was happening with him.

His job was a rough one, one where the fate of thousands of lives were in his hands, just like hers. She could see that he was most likely stressed. He probably drank when he got too overwhelmed, a bad habit, yes, but one that she could understand. He probably just had a little too much nd was no acting this way and saying the strangest things.

"Councillor, let me walk you home," she said.

"I can't go home with you. I want to, but I can't. What will people say?"

She rolled her eyes,"Not like that! Now get up,"

He stood to his feet, almost toppling over, but she was quick to catch him, placing his arm over her shoulder. He held up most of his weight on his own, but he still pressed down on her shoulders, not in a way that she couldn't handle though.

They took slow, coordinated steps together, it was obvious that he had a lot of faith in her sense of direction, because never once did he question where she was going. Maybe it was because he was too drunk to care, maybe it was because he wanted to spend more time with her.

It took a while before they finally reached his apartment. They were walking for what felt like hours, but she didn't mind. Something was wrong with the councillor and that's all that mattered, he was someone important to the Citadel after all.

He typed in the code to his home slowly and she made sure not to look at what he was typing in so not to invade his privacy, then the door slid open.

Together, they walked in and she found a couch to place him on. She led him there and let him ease his body down. Releasing his arm, she stepped away from him, getting ready to walk out the door.

"Shepard," he called out to her.

She turned to face him, "Yes, Councillor?"

"Good night,"


	3. Chapter 3

She drank a bit more with Garrus than she cared to admit when she got back onto the ship. He was full of questions, asking her where she went and what she was doing. But he knew who she was with, hell, he could smell it on her. He never ceased to flex his turian superior sense of smell, but now, he just wanted to hear her say it. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

She thought that she might be able to just drink enough to pass out and forget about the entire experience, but life never seems to work that way. She drank alright, but the minute Garrus left, claiming that he needed to work on the mako before the next mission, she didn't pass out like she thought she would.

Instead she just sat there, drunk and wide awake for some reason, two things that didn't work well together for her.

Her mind was going crazy with ideas and thoughts, all of them about Sparatus. She'd never looked at him that way before, but now that the idea was on her drunk mind, it wouldn't leave. No matter how much she tried to shake the thoughts of him.

When he spoke to her in his office, the way his words were slurred, but slightly sultry. Something about that sent shivers down her spine, with a chill that she couldn't get rid of. When they were face to face to the point where she could smell his natural scent, a part of her wanted to bathe in it, to just caress a hand down the side of his face and find out what made him tick.

His breath smelled like alcohol, but a part of her didn't mind. It was warm, warm enough for her to want to sink into it. And when he spoke. When he said those things to her. Obviously he only said them because he was under the influence, but she shivered when she thought of them.

"You don't even know what you do to me, do you?" His voice was a few octaves lower than normal and she could feel his chest rumble when he spoke. She didn't have a single idea what she did to him, but now that the idea was in her mind, she wanted to find out.

Anxious thoughts kept her up that night. Good and bad ones. Ways she could tease the turian councillor, ways she could get under his plates. But also the thought that maybe this was a mistake, a drunken liaison would never lead to anything and was almost purely accidental. A deep part of her needed to know and there was only one way to find out.

* * *

Waking up with a sore back on his couch was one of the many experiences he hadn't had since his college days. He thought he'd gotten his drinking back in check since then, but apparently that wasn't the case because another one of his workers had to help him fumble his way back into his apartment. It had happened before, which was something he didn't care to admit.

On the day that Jane was made the first human spectre, after she thanked him and walked out of his office. His eyes followed those hips, the way her ass swayed when she walked, how her armor hugged her waist. He watched this and knew that he needed another drink.

He was already a bit tipsy when Jane was there, but he nearly drank himself into a coma after she left. A part of him was trying to suppress his thoughts of bending her over his desk and showing her how a turian could please her, but another part of him was just drinking to see what his filthy drunken mind could come up with. Oftentimes he surprised himself when he just closed his eyes and let his mind do the work.

Well, apparently he'd kept his eyes closed for a little too long. He'd fallen asleep at his desk and was there through the night when the offices were supposed to be closed. He would've stayed there for the night had it not been for one of the night janitors coming in to clean his office.

He didn't remember much of the experience, mainly a brief moment where she screamed because she assumed that he was a dead body from the way he hung limp. The entire thing was hazy, she helped him home and lowered him onto the couch, being unable to carry him into his bedroom.

A rational part of him was still there though, a part of him that told her to write her name down before she left so that he wouldn't forget her when he sobered up. The poor girl must've been terrified, afraid that she would be fired for what she'd done. Her handwriting was shaky and he almost felt bad for scaring her the way that he did. It wasn't her fault after all.

He gave her a raise and a warning to never speak of the incident again. Getting drunk as a councillor was not a problem, but getting drunk enough to lose consciousness? The other running members for his position would have a field day with that information. The janitor had very strong blackmail against him, but he doubted she'd be able to use it. But whoever found and carried him back this time, would need to be found quickly.

He couldn't remember a single detail from the night before to help him pinpoint who it was. Apparently he'd failed to ask for the name as he'd done last time, meaning there was someone out there who knew what he'd done, but he didn't know who it was.

The air around him had this familiar smell to it. One that he could recognize with no hesitation. It was Jane's smell. A strong feminine scent with a slight trace of gunpowder.

She had no reason to be in his home, unless…

He rushed to open his omnitool and see what messages he'd sent that night and sure enough, there it was. The drunken text he'd sent to her, practically begging her to come to his office. Why couldn't he remember that? What did he say to her? Not knowing was killing him inside, but he couldn't bear to ask her.

Her scent was all over him, it was intoxicating. Too good to be true even. He felt his plates shift while he inhaled the faint scent of her that was left on his body. The only trace of her that there was.

"Spirits, what has she done to me," he groaned out loud. Normally, he wasn't one to talk to himself, but now he just needed to hear something, anything to keep him from bursting at the seams.

His omnitool beeped and he sighed. A message this early in the morning, there must've been an emergency. Only Tevos messaged him this early and it normally had something to do with one of the many random violent crimes that had taken place along the citadel, of which she cared too much about.

It was a pleasant surprise when he opened his omnitool to see Jane's name atop the message. The moan of pleasure that he released almost startled him, just from seeing her name alone.

She'd invited him out for coffee. It was a very simple message, no greetings or salutations. Just an invitation and her name. It was very Jane, if that was a way to put it.

But his heart was racing inside his chest. She carried him home last night. He said things to her, he couldn't even remember what he'd said.

Knowing how filthy the drunk version of him thought, he knew he probably confessed to her in some way. He just wondered how much he could pay her to just keep her mouth shut and forget the situation ever happened.

Even then, he doubted that he had enough money. Him and Jane were already on bad terms with one another. Her inviting him out must've been the start to her ruining his entire career. She hated him. He knew that. And now Jane had leverage over him. She had dirt on him. She could do whatever she wanted with him.

Why did he want her to do whatever she wanted with him?

A part of him was almost excited that she had this information on him, that she had this ability to ruin his life if she wanted to. It gave him a knot in his stomach, one that he liked for some reason. He almost had to slap himself out of that mentality. The idea of having his life ruined shouldn’t have turned him on, normally it would have frightened or even angered him, but somehow with Jane, it felt almost good. Almost like he wanted her to blackmail him, but he was no masochist. These thoughts shouldn’t be the kind that excite him and yet, here he was, practically ecstatic to see what Jane had up her sleeve, but he couldn’t show it.

He dressed himself, nothing too special, it was just a coffee shop meeting after all, but something in him also wanted to impress her, maybe even arouse her, but that was completely out of the question, he didn’t want to dig his hole any deeper.

It wasn’t hard to spot Shepard out in the coffee shop. The deep red hair was hard to miss and today she was wearing it up in a high ponytail. Her gorgeous neck and slick shoulders were visible to him. He couldn’t help, but to let his gaze on them for a second too long.

When he looked up at her face, he noticed a slight curl in her lips, she was smirking, almost like she knew exactly what she was doing to him. If he wasn’t trying to keep up the facade of not wanting her, that smirk would’ve been just what he needed to bring her back to his home and do unspeakable things to her.

“What did you call me here for, Jane?” he finally managed to ask her.

“Coffee, of course, what else would I call you for?”

“Last night,” he grumbled, “I know I said some things to you, things I’m not proud of, things I can barely remember to be honest, so how much do you want for this to not get out?”

She gave him a quick look of surprise before answering, “ What if I told you that I don’t want any of your money?”

“I wouldn’t believe you, Jane,” He stammer, “I apologize, Shepard, this is your chance to ruin me, I know you want to.”

She quickly took notice of him using her first name, even by accident, he did the same the night before. She liked the way he said her name, a part of her wanted to hear him say it more and she knew he felt the same.

“Sparatus, I’m going to get straight to the point, I’m interested,”

“I’m sorry?” he questioned dumbfounded.

“You heard me. How about we meet later to talk things over in your apartment? Does 1900 sound good?” She didn’t even give him a chance to respond before she stood with her coffee, preparing to leave, “Good, I’ll see you there.”

A part of her was congratulating herself for being so bold with him, but she also had a pit in her stomach. If she was wrong about his intentions, then she just made a complete fool of herself in front of the turian councillor, and there was no coming back from that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty short, but please be ready for the next part, it's going to be super exciting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I am very much struggling with this story in particular. I really do enjoy this first chapter I've written, but everything I've tried to write after has come up blank, so I'm asking for your ideas on this. Leave a comment on what you'd like to see and I'll try to write it.


End file.
